


Art is My Drug of Choice

by TheWalkingDebt



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Cute, Fluff, Gen, Michaels, Shopping, Slice of Life, Steve/Reader if you squint, and yes it does happen, art is addictive, art-gasm, as in the crafts shop, don't do art kids, it is what it sounds like, ridiculous amounts of spending
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-27
Updated: 2018-04-27
Packaged: 2019-04-28 14:24:07
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 928
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14451156
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheWalkingDebt/pseuds/TheWalkingDebt
Summary: You forgot that Steve was once an artist. How silly of you.





	Art is My Drug of Choice

“What’re you doing up so early?”

 _Damn_. And you thought if you left now, no one would see you. Smiling wide and inwardly smacking yourself, you glanced up into the eyes of your amused Captain. _And did it have to be Mr. Kill-Joy?_ As hot as he was, he was the one that most often frowned upon venturing outside the Tower for non-job related purposes. Only to keep the public from stampeding one of the Avengers in their eagerness to get an autograph or some bullshit.

Like you were one of the popular ones. Unlikely. People were far more interested in Captain America and Iron Man than little ol’ you. Or Clint and Sam. You three were the unofficial nobodies of Team Avenger. Which was fine by you.

Except that you really needed to get out of this place every once in awhile, and not just to blow up another city.

“I… um, I was just…” you sighed, shoulders sinking, before remembering something. Something very important. Your eyes lit up, and your expression suddenly turned mischievous. “Steve, have you ever heard of a store called Michaels?”

*

Steve gaped at the inside of the gigantic craft store. As always, you received the guilty rush of energy just smelling the paper, wood, and paint that resided here. You took in a deep breath of relaxation, knowing you were just about to drop a paycheck’s worth of money on supplies alone. You had long ago settled your mind on that tiny inkling of regret. It was so freaking worth it when the trip was over.

“I needed new markers,” you explained breezily, leading him past row after row of frames, binders, and journals. You heard the whine in the back of his throat as he stretched his head back to look at what you were passing up. You remembered your first few times here, wandering each aisle, regardless of what sort of supplies were there. You never scrapbooked in your life, but you spent at least half an hour staring at the wide range of stickers, washi tape, and special scissors.

Michaels was heaven on earth for artists.

“My skin colors are drying up, and man alive these Copics are expensive, but holy fuck are they worth it…!”

“Language,” Steve reminded you absently as you two passed the adult coloring books and planners with their glossy, unblemished faces.

You barely heard him, eyes focused on the prize.

“Ah! Here,” you tugged him into the aisle by his forearm. As always, he easily complied, and his jaw absolutely dropped. Not only did this series of shelves contain a multitude of your favorite alcohol-based markers, but at least three different kinds of paints completed the section. Oils, acrylics, and watercolors as far as the eye could see.

Well, not really, but close enough.

Steve’s hand wandered the shelves, staring almost sightlessly at all the supplies. You could spot an art-gasm when you saw one, and Steve was on the verge of it right now. You tried not to flush at the thought, but then, you remembered the one time you dragged him into Barnes and Nobles and nearly wet yourself at seeing the huge array of abso-fucking-lutely gorgeous journals. Even still you trembled a little.

You picked up a packet of skin colors, but almost instantly you were also throwing in new paints and brushes, and a palette knife because c’mon, when didn’t you need one of those? A few tiny canvases, a new watercoloring sketchbook, three journals (buy two get one free? Hell yeah), a packet of Micron pens, two canvas boards, six new individual shades of Copics that you didn’t have, and a bright red binder.

...If you thought about it, there was probably a justifiable reason to buy all of this stuff, but really, you knew it was just your artist trigger finger and the fact you didn’t really have to worry about paying bills yet. Thank God for Tony Stark’s infinite wallet.

You glanced back at Steve once the French vermillion haze left your eyes. You swore his blue eyes were just a hint more dilated than usual. Art did weird things to its users. _Don’t take art, kids_ , you thought to yourself, trying not to snort with laughter.

“I think you’ll need a bigger basket,” he told you amusedly, looking at your small hoard.

“I think you’ll need a cart,” you shot back, trying not to laugh at the pile of paints he had amassed on the top shelf. The tips of his ears went pink. _God, but he was adorable_.

*

All in all, a successful, if very expensive, trip. Steve got new art supplies; you got an excess of things you knew you didn’t really need but _hell yeah_ you couldn’t wait to use.

It was ten o’clock when you two came back to the Tower, Steve carrying most the bags ( _"_ _Whadda gentleman,” you had teased, bringing back that flush on his face_ ). Laughing and trading barbs, you almost didn’t notice the team assembled for breakfast already, and they were all staring at the sheer amount of shit you brought back. They were used to you going out and bringing back a big bag of art, but now that you had Cap going out too? This was going to be messy.

“Oh no,” Natasha groaned quietly into her coffee.

“We knew this would happen one day,” Clint sighed, having long expected the inevitable.

“She didn’t...” Sam shook his head, disbelieving.

“What did I tell you guys?” you grinned at all of them. “Art is a gateway drug!”

**Author's Note:**

> Haven't posted in awhile cuz life's been crazy, but thanks for reading guys! Just a little short story to get back in the swing of things. Hope you liked it ^u^ (And yes, this is what happens when you take art-friends to an art store. At least, in my experience.)


End file.
